Note: Not much is known about Morrigan, so this is my interpretation
Smoke and ash filled his nostrils, pain coursed through his body. The battle had been won but at a painful, fatal price.
He'd lost most of his comrades, valiant men who chose to fight at his side. Wars were a nasty sort, but they had no choice when invaders wished to take their land.
The man rolled onto his back, releasing a scream that burned his throat. He was dying, and the remaining fleet had gone to deliver the news of victory. He was alone.
Suddenly a swoop of wind hit his face, yet no sound of another person was heard. He'd have tried looking around, but his body ached with every tiny move he made.
Then he didn't have to. The wind belonged to a bird of sorts. He wanted to say a crow, but there were no crows surrounding his people's land. It had to be something else.
It was definitely something else because what once was a bird began to take a shape of a woman. Her skin was fair, a gentle kiss from the sun. Her hair was black, falling down to her feet; he'd never seen a woman with hair as long as hers.
He couldn't tell what her figure was because her white dress fell like wisps of clouds from a waterfall. What he couldn't deny against his vision were her eyes. Her eyes were baby blue, wide and soft to stare into.
"Are you my angel?" he asked, his words hoarse from his prior screams. It wouldn't be long before it was gone completely as his throat still burned.
She giggled lightly (proving she was very much real) and knelt beside the man. "I suppose you could say that," she told him. "I am here for you, fallen warrior."
The man wished he'd paid attention to the folklore and stories that the villagers had about the angels that watched over their people. It would help him further understand this one's purpose. Though he would take whatever she would give; her mere presence had taken his mind from some of the pain he felt inside. It didn't take away what he knew what was inevitable.
"Can you save me?" he asked, though it was a foolish thought. He still had the desire to know if there was a slither of a chance.
While he could still see properly, he watched her give him a somber smile and shake her head.
"I'm afraid not," she answered. "I'm sorry to bear such horrid news."
It wasn't her fault, and he'd gladly have told her so if it weren't for the sudden cough that came. He coughed so hard that he could have sworn his lung was spit into pieces on the ground. It was excruciating, and he could tell his voice was fading. He had to use it while he still had it for the beautiful angel in front of him.
"I'm gonna die, and I don't even know your name," the man croaked out, the blood starting to trickle down the corner of his mouth. He had to know the name of his angel.
He felt her hand caress his cheek gingerly as if she were rubbing on a newborn babe. His vision was failing him, so he could no longer look his angel in the eyes. He didn't try talking again; it was to the point that he knew it was done for.
"I wish to the gods I could heal you properly," she said her voice like a whisper, "but I can't. That doesn't mean I will allow you to die alone. That is my purpose."
The man couldn't bring himself to open his mouth (the effort had gotten to be too much), but he nodded his head as much as he could. His chest felt like it was caving in on him; he wanted to cough desperately but to no avail.
His angel shook her head; he could feel her hair brushing against his nose. He sensed her laying next to him, her hand laid on his chest while her other hand played with his blood-soaked hair.
"Close your eyes, warrior. Rest peacefully," she told him. Her voice tickled his ear, and he wished he could find the strength to smile. Her voice was melodic, a lullaby for his soul to drift peacefully.
The man did as he was told, closing his eyes. It didn't matter exactly as the world was fading to black with every second. The only thing holding him was the angel who laid next to him. Her voice reached his ears once more, producing a hum that made him feel like he was floating.
"Close your eyes, drift to sleep. Fear no more, you shall not weep," he heard her sing. No longer did he feel like his body was caving into the earth; he felt safe.
"Morrigan is here to sing you goodbye," she continued, finally offering her name. "It is now your time to fly."
The man did it; he smiled. He knew he could do it for his angel.
"Goodnight, darling, rest well," Morrigan sang. "For it's your story Time will tell."
No longer could he feel his fingers. No longer could he feel her touch, hear her words. He had gone to sleep.
Morrigan stood up slowly after the man passed away, wiping the tear that cascaded down her cheek. He was nothing but another Muggle that had fallen from the consequences of hate and battle in her father's eyes, but Morrigan didn't see it that way. She saw him as someone who had to pay with blood for the freedom of his people.
Just like the others she laid to rest.
No matter what her father thought or wanted, this is what Morrigan wished to do. She would find and help guide those fallen warriors to peace as they deserved it. It was the least she could do for those who couldn't know of her true nature.
Turning away from the man's body, Morrigan broke into a run (her long hair billowing behind her like a flag, and her bare feet hitting the grass dusted in blood and ash) and jumped into the air. As she did so, her body shifted into a crow, and she flew away in the sky to return to her home. There were other warriors who would need her guidance...her wisdom...her lullabies.
A/N: Written for The Houses Competition and HSWW (Challenges and Assignments)
(THC) House: Gryffindor; Year: Year 6 Stand-In; Category: Standard (950-2,000 words); Prompt: [dialogue] "I'm gonna die and I don't even know your name."
(HSWW) Assignment #5 Lineage Studies Task 2: Write about Morrigan (the original Morrigan, not Isolt Sayre)
Word Count: 1,064